


Snowballs

by Maiden_of_Asgard



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:08:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28326576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiden_of_Asgard/pseuds/Maiden_of_Asgard
Summary: Býleistr of Jotunheim experiences his first snowy season on Midgard.
Comments: 17
Kudos: 126
Collections: Flurries - The World of Frostbite





	Snowballs

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy (Frostbite) Friday! ❄️

The rays of the Earth’s sun glancing off of the fresh snow was blinding, and Býleistr shoved his sun-glasses up his nose, squinting in annoyance. Why was Midgard so  _ bright? _

“You look foolish, Býleistr.”

He turned his glare to his brother, who was nearly as bundled up as his little mortal queen. “I beg your pardon?”

Loki waved a hand, seeming to indicate that his entire person was somehow problematic. “Humans do not walk about in the snow this way.”

“He’s kind of right, Bý,” In-Unga chirped, elbowing Loki aside. “I mean… a jacket might help you blend in a little more. Or… or a shirt would be a good start, at least.”

“But I have this scarf.” He waved the fringed end of it in her face for emphasis, then tossed it over his shoulder. 

Her eyes narrowed; she was getting better and better at noticing when he was being purposefully obtuse. “Yeah, exactly. You’re wearing a scarf and shorts in the middle of winter. Nice flip-flops, by the way. Where did you even  _ get _ those?”

Shrugging, he pointed to where the twins Greip and Gjálp stood nearby, examining some sort of Midgardian snow-idol. “They found them,” he replied, “on your internet.”

In-Unga groaned.  _ “Why _ did I give them a cellphone?”

“In-Unga!” Gjálp called, waving them over excitedly. “What sort of deity is this meant to represent?”

“I… that’s a snowman, Gjálp. It’s just for fun.”

“Really?”

The mortal eyed all of them with suspicion. “You really mean to tell me that you all grew up on a planet that is literally  _ covered with snow _ year-round, and you’ve never made a snowman? Or snow-jötunn? Like, that’s not a thing at all?”

“We make them on Asgard,” Loki offered. “Well, the children do, at least.”

“No one  _ asked _ you, Brother—” Býleistr began. 

“Okay, then,” In-Unga interrupted, “so we’ll just make one now, then everyone is happy. You up for it, babe?”

“Don’t call me that in front of _ them—” _

“Whatever, King Loki,  _ My Royal Majestic Husband.”  _ She rolled her eyes. “We’ve gotta gather some snow. I’ll leave that to you guys, since my hands are already frozen.” Hesitating, she turned back to them just before she stepped back into the little wooden cabin where they’d been staying. “Please don’t get in an argument in the next five minutes, okay?”

As soon as she was gone, Býleistr smirked at his brother. “Well, go on, sire,” he said. “Gather snow, as your queen has commanded.”

Loki scowled. “I am king. I delegate. Greip, Gjálp, gather snow.”

“We are already doing so, Majesty,” Gjálp replied. 

“I know,” Loki said, “but now you must gather more.” He nodded in satisfaction as they scurried to double their efforts. “See, little brother?  _ Delegation.” _

“In-Unga will not be pleased by your reluctance to engage in mortal festivities.”

“Let me worry about my wife,” Loki replied, and then he smirked. “I have a wonderful gift for her. She will forgive me easily. The queen is very easy to bribe.”

“I assume that is how you convinced her to marry you,” Býleistr said sourly. “Extravagant gifts.”

Loki appeared unruffled - and, if anything, perhaps a little smug. “Among other things.”

Býleistr rolled his eyes and trotted through the snow to join the others. It only came to mid-calf, but it felt wonderfully refreshing against his bare feet. Gjálp struggled to pack together a large, imperfect sphere of snow, and he considered offering her a hand. He decided against it; it wouldn’t do for him to stoop to the same level of childishness as Hrossþjófr. 

He caught scent of In-Unga before she appeared, her own familiar aroma deliciously blended with the sugar and spices of the baking she’d been tending to inside their temporary Midgardian abode. When she sprang a hug on him, he stiffened and pushed up his glasses to glance down at her with an appropriate amount of haughty disinterest. “Do you want something?”

“Yes,” she replied, smiling brightly. “I want to show some affection, and you can’t act mad, because we aren’t in front of all those stuffy old Jötnar in the court.”

“I certainly can—”

“And, I need a favor.”

“Of course you do,” Býleistr said. He allowed another moment of her embrace, then extricated himself from her grasp. “What favor?”

She shoved a sprig of greenery into his hand. “I need you to hold this over Greip and Hross.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s mistletoe. Loki said that’s a thing on Asgard. Don’t you have it in Jotunheim? Anyway, you kiss under it.”

“You should go inside, Your Majesty. I believe the cold is beginning to affect your senses.”

“It’s a  _ tradition, _ ” In-Unga insisted. “If you get caught under the mistletoe with someone, you have to kiss them. Hrossþjófr will love it. I’m nowhere near tall enough to reach over their heads, but  _ you _ are.”

“Utter nonsense,” he said. 

“Please, Bý?”

Býleistr sighed. 

He sidled up to where the pair had begun to stack their perfect balls of snow on top of each other. They noticed his approach, and both Hrossþjófr and Greip paused in confusion as he stuck out an arm to hold the fateful mistletoe over their heads. “It’s a tradition,” he said flatly. “You must kiss. Queen’s orders.”

Greip flushed, Hrossþjófr grinned, and Býleistr rolled his eyes yet again at the obscene display before him.  _ Kissing. On the mouth. How lascivious.  _

He would not mind trying it, though. 

In-Unga seemed very pleased with herself when he slunk back to return her mating-foliage. “Thanks,” she said. “I thought that would make a cute Christmas card picture for them. I’m gonna get one of you, too, Prince Býleistr, as soon as I can catch you smiling.” She waved her cellular phone in his face. “I am prepared to take as many pictures as necessary. Resistance is futile.”

“You are cheery today,” he said. 

“I am. Home for the holidays. Well,  _ kinda _ home. On the same planet as home, at least. Hey, why aren’t you making a snowman?”

“Neither is Loki!”

“Loki is going to make one, too. You guys need to be super indulgent and touristy, take in the full Midgardian-winter experience. I always try out your festival stuff, don’t I?”

“Yes,” he begrudgingly replied. “But, dancing is for adults. These snow-creatures are for children.”

“Live a little,” In-Unga said, and then she’d scampered off to tackle Loki into the snow before Býleistr could reply. Why  _ did  _ Loki allow her to pin him with so little struggle? Býleistr’s eyes narrowed. They were a strange pair, those two. 

He decided to help Gjálp with her snowman. 

Or, snow- _ elf,  _ to be precise, because she eagerly regaled him with a story about the importance of elves during human holidays, and she’d decided that a large, bow-bearing snow-elf would be the perfect contribution to the wintry landscape. 

“You could use leaves for the ears,” he suggested. “To achieve the proper point, I mean.”

“Oh, you are right,” she said, smiling brightly. The cold had her cheeks a lovely shade of lavender, and as she beamed at him, Býleistr realized that he’d finally begun to exceed her in height. “In-Unga says that a carrot can be used for the nose.”

His nose wrinkled. “The carrots here are orange, though. No human or elf has an orange nose… do they?”

“It is an imperfect rendition,” Gjálp conceded. Her voice lowered, conspiratorial. “Did you finish your gift for the king and queen?”

“It is only for In-Unga,” he said, “and only because I know that she will give me something for this festival of hers, necessitating a gift of my own.”

“Of course, of course.” She leaned closer and winked at him, unflappable. “But… you did finish it?”

“I did.” He selected a bendy stick and began attempting to make something resembling a bow. “And yours?”

“Rekwaz and Heiðr are putting the finishing touches on it, even now,” she said. 

“I wondered where they were, and what excuse they’d given to avoid this nonsense.”

“Heiðr said that she needed help with a winter-cold spell, and In-Unga has so many other distractions, I believe she barely gave it a second thought.”

“What is it, that it requires both of their assistance?”

A crafty gleam appears in her eyes. “She has been working on her account of her first year in Jotunheim. Hrossþjófr stole it from her bag, and Heiðr is using her witchcraft to cast her words into copper. Rekwaz brought a lovely jeweled copper book from Ymisundir.”

“Ah. She will likely weep.”

“I do hope so. It has taken a great deal of conniving.”

Býleistr smiled. Gjálp was hardly a woman he’d consider  _ conniving,  _ but she looked so proud of herself— A large, slushy lump of snow struck him directly in the back of the neck, and he let out a startled gasp, spinning around to face his assailant. 

_ Rekwaz.  _

Býleistr bared his teeth, but Rekwaz pointed towards In-Unga. “It was Her Majesty,” he said. “She used magic to spin it, but I swear that it came from her own hand.”

In-Unga pretended to be scandalized by the accusation. “Who, me? Starting a snowball fight? With magic? I would— _ Ah!” _

Býleistr’s smile returned as the queen sputtered and scrubbed his expertly-lobbed snow from her face. “A war you shall have, Queen of Jotunheim,” he said, pulling Gjálp to duck for cover behind their snow-elf as frozen missiles began to pepper the ground around them. Loki had decided to join the fray with the aid of his own magic, it seemed.  _ Treachery.  _

“Gjálp,” Býleistr said solemnly, “will you fight at my side?”

“Of course, sire.”

“Good.” He placed a large snowball in her cupped palms. “I will form them, you will fling them. Please, do try to hit my brother in the face, if you can.”

Her laugh was as bright as the sun in the snow. “Gladly, sire,” she said.  _ “Gladly.” _


End file.
